


Molly's LiveJournal

by Raelynn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Come Eating, F/M, M/M, More tags to be added, Oral Sex, Riding Crops, The Belstaff as a sex toy, Woman on Top, basically this is an excuse for chapter upon chapter of pwp, molly has a pervy side, what?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I ran across the prompt "Molly has a secret blog where she details her fantasies about Sherlock.  He finds it." and my mind ran with it.  Going to basically be PWP where each chapter starts with her blog entry and then they fulfill her fantasy. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

Molly was sewing up her last post mortem of the day when Sherlock swished his way through the double doors of the morgue. She glanced up, once again amazed at his ability to throw open both doors JUST enough to make an entrance, but never so wide that they slammed against the wall. 

“Sherlock.” she acknowledged. 

Sherlock perched on a stool and waited for her to finish. She glanced at him suspiciously, but continued her work. They’d been in a relationship for three months, but he was still learning how to behave when it came to her and work. He was being very well-behaved today, which was unusual.

“No John?” she inquired, continuing her neat, practised stitches.

“Ellie has colic, and it’s definitely a two-Watson job. I’m not to summon him for less than a nine. But I’m not here for a case.”

She turned her head this time. “Oh, is this a personal visit?”

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed in acknowledgment.

“Well, this is my last case for the day so as soon as I finish up I can shower and we can...do whatever it is you’re here for.”

Sherlock nodded, and started messing with his phone. Molly went back to her corpse, and finished up. She slid the man back into the drawer and pulled off her gloves. “Give me some time to shower and meet me in my office?”

“Yup.” said Sherlock, sliding off the stool and walking out of the morgue. 

Molly shook her head and made her way to the locker room.

Twenty minutes later she opened up the door to her office, her hair still damp and pulled back into a plait. Sherlock was sitting at her desk, his lanky legs stretched out in front of him.

“All set!” she said cheerily, reaching for her bag.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and began to read aloud. As he did, the color drained from Molly’s face.

_He came in again. With a riding crop. A riding crop. It goes without saying that the body I pictured under him was not the corpse he was using for his experiment, oh no. I watched from the observation room and all I could think about was what it would be like to be under those hands, those arms. To feel that sting, and know it was he who was taking his pleasure out in my pain._

_But of course it’s not to be. I even tried asking him out for coffee, but he either misunderstood, or pretended to to let me down gently. Not that that’s stopped me from picturing him with that crop. Over and over…_

Sherlock stopped reading and looked up at Molly. “So, we’ve been dating for three months and suddenly I find your other blog and I see that you have many, many fantasies you’ve never revealed to me. I’m starting to feel like maybe you aren’t happy with our sexual encounters, if this blog is any indication of your...desires.”

Molly swallowed. “That’s, uh, not my blog?” she asked, knowing she was well and truly caught.

“Molly, do you seriously expect me to believe that THAT blog post wasn’t yours? With a pseudonym like ‘catlover79’? John could have figured that out.”

Molly stared at him. “And don’t bother trying to go back and delete the entries, I’ve downloaded them all. I think they’ll make a mighty fine...checklist.”

“I...I can’t even remember the password to that account or I’d have deleted those a long time ago. I haven’t written anything there in years, Sherlock. I was lonely, and infatuated. I’m not even the person who wrote those anymore.”

Sherlock stood and walked over to her, dropping a kiss on her lips. “I know. But are you saying that these fantasies no longer interest you?” He grinned at her.

“I didn’t say that,” she said quietly.

“Then we’d best be off. There’s a brand new riding crop waiting at Baker Street.”


	2. We'll Start With The Riding Crop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to @pulchratibi, who has had a rough week and needs some sherlolly riding crop to cheer her up. :)

_January 29th, 2010_

_So this isn’t my only blog. There’s another one that’s more public, and I’ve talked a little bit about the man I’m going to talk about here, but not in the sort of ...detail I want to. I was writing in my paper journal but somehow it seems more ...real if I send it out into the real world? Does that make sense? Pretty much nothing makes sense when it comes to me, I think you’ll find._

_There’s a man. He’s dark and beautiful and mysterious and I never used to believe in love at first sight, and maybe I still don’t? Lust at first sight? He comes into my work, because he works with the police. I can’t stop staring at him. It’s embarrassing, really. So yesterday he came in again. With a riding crop. A riding crop. It goes without saying that the body I pictured under him was not the corpse he was using for his experiment, oh no. I watched from the observation room and all I could think about was what it would be like to be under those hands, those arms. To feel that sting, and know it was he who was taking his pleasure out in my pain._

_But of course it’s not to be. I even tried asking him out for coffee, but he either misunderstood, or pretended to to let me down gently. Not that that’s stopped me from picturing him with that crop. Over and over…_

_Does all this make me weird? It’s entirely possible it does. I don’t know why I’m writing this, or who I even think will read it. Hopefully no one._

**Present Day**

Molly gathered up her purse and followed Sherlock outside where he caught a cab with his usual infuriating ease. If only she could get a cab whenever she needed one. She didn’t complain, though, just slid in next to him. She sat quietly, stealing peeks over at Sherlock. Despite his concerns, she was not remotely disappointed in their sex life thus far. He was a kind, considerate lover, always deducing what she needed, sometimes knowing what she needed before even she did. Their first few times had been clumsy, sure; he was not inexperienced, but he explained that it had been a while, one night in Karachi notwithstanding. “She was disappointed,” he’d told her, “because I would not let her dominate me.”

Molly had blushed at that, but apparently he’d taken that as embarrassment with the topic, not the thoughts that bubbled into her mind unbidden. Sherlock Holmes did occasionally miss things, even if he didn’t like to admit it.

The cab dropped them off in front of 221B, and Sherlock paid for the cab and let them into the house. Molly made her way up the stairs behind Sherlock, who had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride over. Usually he’d be peppering her with questions about work, and she noted that he hadn’t even asked if there were any spare body parts available for him to take home.

They made their way into the flat and divested themselves of outerwear. Sherlock wandered into the kitchen. “Should we order food first? Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not hungry yet. I’ve been eating later what with this weird schedule they have me on at Bart’s.” replied Molly, following Sherlock into the kitchen. He was filling a couple of glasses with water. “So its right to the bedroom is it?” she laughed indicating the water. They’d learned early on to prep themselves a drink before any...activities, since afterwards they’d play-bicker about which exhausted participant should go and fetch them some.

“Just being prepared,” he said with a wink. He made his way down the hall to the bedroom, and Molly followed him.

“That wasn’t a complaint, you know,” she said, sliding up behind him as he set the glasses down on a side table. “I missed you while you were in Cardiff last week.”

Sherlock closed his large hands over the small ones that snaked around his waist, and gave them a squeeze. Turning around in her embrace, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. They broke apart, breathless. “I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips. “Especially after I found your blog.”

He winked at her, and then sat on the bed, pulling her down with him and curling her against him. She faced him, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “You know it doesn’t mean I’ve been unhappy; right?”

He nodded. “Sexual fantasies are very common. Often, people fantasize about things they wouldn’t enjoy in practice. Is there anything like that in your blog that you recall?”

She looked at him. “You really are going to use it as a checklist, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the P in his usual annoying way. “But only the things you’re actually interested in attempting.”

Molly thought for a moment. “I can’t recall anything, but I’ll take a look when I get home and if there’s anything I’m not interested in, I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing up against her and nibbling on her neck, “Because they all sounded fantastic to me.”

Molly blushed, recalling some of the things she’d written about. He noticed, and shook his head at her. “None of that, Molly. There’s no shame in this bed. There may be things that one or the other of us propose that the other isn’t interested in, but that’s still no cause for shame. 

Molly nodded, and Sherlock kissed her again. “Promise?” he asked.

“Promise,” she said.

They snuggled for a while, kissing and touching and getting reacquainted. The four days Sherlock spent in Cardiff had seemed like a lifetime to Molly, who had found herself surprised at how … tactile Sherlock had become once they’d tumbled into bed the first time. She’d grown rather used to Sherlock finding his way into her flat late at night after closing a case and snuggling into her bed. She’d wake in the morning and watch him sleep, amazed at how young he looked when he let his guard down. 

Eventually, their small touches turned needy, and Molly reached to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt, kissing each new bit of exposed skin. She sat back just long enough to unbutton the cuffs, which he presented to her, and then busied herself with removing her blouse as he shrugged out of the shirt. 

“Sod it,” said Sherlock, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing. Unbuttoning his trousers and sliding both the trousers and the pants to the floor, he bent to busy himself with his socks. Looking up, he caught Molly watching him. “You, too.” he said, grinning wickedly at her. Or as wickedly as one can look, hopping on one foot trying to remove a sock.

Molly stood, removing the rest of her clothes quickly as Sherlock sat down on the edge of the bed. She started to climb back into the bed, but he shook his head. “Come around here.”

Molly walked around the bed to stand in front of Sherlock, whose eyes tracked up and down her body. Molly felt a blush creeping across her face. While she was used to Sherlock seeing her naked, the utter look of hunger on his face was new.

Reaching out, Sherlock took her hands in his and pulled her until she was standing between his parted legs. The height of the bed put his face directly even with her breasts, and he was quick not to waste that opportunity, capturing one nipple in his mouth and licking and sucking. Molly moaned, and Sherlock wrapped his hands around her hips, holding her in place. 

Molly’s hands came up, tangling in Sherlock’s curls as he switched to her other nipple, lightly biting and tilting his head up to watch her expression. After a few moments he let go, scooting back on the bed so his legs were just over the edge. He smiled at Molly.

“Lay over my lap, Molly, if you please. If you want me to stop, just say red, and we’ll stop.” 

Molly watched him for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. Sherlock waited, patiently, watching her. Molly came to a decision, and slowly and carefully laid herself across Sherlock’s lap, her bottom right in his lap. She folded her arms under her head, getting comfortable. 

Sherlock waited until she stilled, and then began slowly stroking her bottom and lower back, gentle, whispery touches. “I wish I’d found your blog earlier,” he said, snaking a hand between her legs. Molly squirmed as his fingers dipped into her wetness, her breath catching as his finger lightly stroked across her clit. 

“Mmm, so wet already, Molly. But I know what will make you wetter.” Sherlock reached over, under the blanket next to him, and slid the riding crop out from under the pillows. Molly, with her head at the foot of the bed, craned her neck trying to see. Sherlock did not miss the shiver that ran through her body. “Like that, do you Molly?” He took the crop and ran it down her neck, along her spine, over the curve of her bottom. 

Molly moaned, tensing as she felt the crop lift from her body. Sherlock placed his left hand on her upper back, steadying her. After a breath or two, the crop made contact with her bottom. Molly gasped as the sting from the crop bloomed on her bottom, but before she could steel herself, the next smack rained down. Molly cried out with each fall of the crop, digging her fingers into the duvet and panting between blows.

Molly could feel Sherlock hardening beneath her as he alternated smacks with the crop with soft caresses. After a few moments, the stinging pain adjusted until every smack went straight to her core, her cries of pain soon turning to moans of pleasure. Sherlock watched and listened, felt her squirming on his lap. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t wait any longer and dropped the crop to the floor and plunged his hand between her legs. Two fingers slid easily into her soaking wet cunt as his thumb came up to find her clit. 

Molly cried out, trying to inch across Sherlock’s lap, trying to chase his fingers back as he drew out. It didn’t take long before she was screaming out her orgasm, tensing and then collapsing across his lap with a long sigh. 

Sherlock removed his fingers, sucking her juices off of them quickly before gently sliding out from under her and making sure she was comfortably on the bed. Walking to the foot of the bed, he climbed up next to her, wrapping his arms gently around her. 

Molly lifted her head briefly, smiling at him, and then curled into his arms. They lay like that for a while, while Molly drifted back to reality. 

After a few moments, Sherlock spoke. “Feeling okay? Do you need ice? I tried not to give you too much, we’re going to have to learn each other’s limits.”

Molly lifted her head, gazing into her lover’s eyes. “No, Sherlock, I’m good. Just give me a second.”

Sherlock nodded, and kissed her forehead. “Take all the time you need, darling. We’ve got the rest of the night. And you should definitely eat.”

Molly smiled, satiated and content.


	3. The One with the Coat ...and Only the Coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten you guys, I promise! I had this chapter mostly written so I finished it up today over lunch.

_February 9, 2010._

_Wow, so apparently several of you have found this blog, and liked what you read! I guess I have to keep making these posts! I’ve been thinking about my Mystery Man a lot (when don’t I, really?!) and it’s winter, and he’s got this coat. It’s long, and wool, and the other day I was at work and he was standing talking to someone wearing it, and my mind just started wandering._

_I started thinking about what it would be like to peel that coat off of him. And then I really got to thinking, and oh god, suddenly I couldn’t get the thought of him in JUST the coat off my mind. Opening that coat would be like unwrapping an incredibly fit present. Climbing on top of him, coat still on, straddling his slim hips and having my way with him._

_I don’t have to tell you I went straight to the bedroom when I got home that night._

**Present Day:**

Your calendar shows you free tonight. Come to Baker Street after work? -SH

Wow, you’re ASKING this time?

I have to keep you on your toes. -SH

Molly was just about done at work when the text from Sherlock came in. She was catching up on paperwork in her office. Glancing at the clock, she saw she still had another hour. She sighed and turned on some music, hoping to make the time go by faster. About 45 minutes later she texted Sherlock again.

Should I bring dinner? 

No. We’ll get something delivered later.

Molly’s eyebrows rose at that. He knew she was usually starving when she left work, which meant he had ...plans for the evening. Ever since he’d found her old LiveJournal, Molly had been watching for signs that he was going to fulfill another fantasy. It had been about two weeks since the first night, and while they’d been together quite a bit in that time, there had been no mention of the journal. 

She arrived at Baker Street and let herself in with the key Sherlock had finally given her after Mrs. Hudson had complained one too many times about his inability to let his own guests in. She made her way up the stairs and shrugged out of her coat. Glancing around the sitting room, there was no sign of Sherlock. She turned the corner into the kitchen and was surprised he wasn’t there, either. 

“Sherlock?” she called out.

“Bedroom,” came his voice, silky and deep. Molly stopped for a moment, pulling her hair out of the ponytail she kept it in for work. She knew Sherlock preferred her hair down.

When she stepped into the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway, staring. Sherlock lay on his bed, the duvet shoved down onto the floor at the foot of the bed. His feet and shins stuck out from underneath his Belstaff.

“Are you…” she stepped into the room, standing on the side of the bed staring down at the Consulting Detective. “Are you wearing anything under that coat?”

Sherlock looked up at her. “Nope,” he said, popping the “P” and looking incredibly smug. Molly couldn’t decide if she was incredibly turned on, or if she wanted to smirk at him.

Both, probably.

He picked up his phone from where it lay next to him on the bed, and read her Livejournal entry about his coat to her, dropping the phone back onto the bed when he finished. He met her eyes again, grinning. 

She moved closer to the side of the bed, watching his face. She shrugged, and pulled her jumper off over her head, and then slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. Molly was incredibly satisfied with the way Sherlock’s eyes followed her every move, and especially with the way he swallowed thickly when she shrugged out of the blouse, wearing only her pink lace bra.

Turning her attention to her shoes, she slipped out of them and then unbuttoned her trousers, still watching him intently. His eyes never left her body, roaming up and down as she bent to slide the trousers off. 

She stood before him in just her pants and bra for a moment, pondering her options. He stared, waiting.

“You are being so good,” she said to him. “I know you’re incredibly impatient, because you know exactly where this is going.”

He stared up at her as if his entire world was between the four walls of his bedroom, and there was the briefest of moments when she almost believed it. She watched him for a moment, luxuriating in the spell that had been cast. 

After a moment she smiled down at him, and removed the last of her clothing. Climbing onto the bed, she sat on her knees between his shins, just beyond the edge of the Belstaff. She leaned forward, placing her arms on either side of his waist, and stretched to nuzzle his neck inside the collar of the coat. “Well, hello there. Is this a present for me?” she murmured, her tongue snaking out to lick Sherlock’s pulse point.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, stretching his neck to give Molly better access. She sat up enough to drop a kiss on his lips, and then sat back on her heels, staring down at him. 

“Well, I was taught to open my presents carefully,” she teased, reaching to unbutton the top button. She leaned in and kissed the skin of Sherlock’s chest this revealed, and then slid the second button, placing another kiss. 

As she unbuttoned the third button, she paused before opening the coat fully. Molly smiled down at Sherlock, who watched her with rapt attention, and then every so slowly, she pulled the coat open, revealing a very naked Sherlock. She carefully made sure both sides of the coat were splayed out on the bed, giving her full access to the Detective’s body.

“Such a lovely present you’ve given me today,” she said. “I do believe I shall play with it immediately. I’ve always been impatient when receiving new toys.”

She maneuvered between Sherlock’s legs and reached out, gently running a finger along his already hardening cock. It twitched at her touch, and Sherlock groaned. Smiling at him, she bent, reaching out with her tongue and licking a stripe along it, ending at the tip. Sherlock’s arms were still in the sleeves of the Belstaff, and his hands opened and closed, longing to touch her. 

Molly slid his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head before sliding him deeper into her mouth. “Fuuuuuck,” moaned Sherlock, lifting his head up so he could watch. Molly’s hair cascaded around her, along his thighs, as she worked her mouth up and down his cock, alternating long licks with her tongue with just the right amount of suction.

After a few moments, she slid him out of her mouth and slid up his body, kissing Sherlock and pressing her body against his. Sherlock hungrily returned her kisses. “Come up here,” he whispered to her, and Molly knew exactly what he wanted. Molly sat up onto her knees, climbing on top of Sherlock.

As his tongue slid between her folds, Molly closed her eyes, her hands holding onto the headboard of Sherlock’s bed and her head thrown back. She’d been startled by Sherlock’s talent for oral sex when they’d first started sleeping together, but she’d learned since then to just appreciate it.

Sherlock kept his hands in the sleeves of his Belstaff, but his talented tongue needed no help. Molly was soon groaning out her orgasm, and she lifted herself off of his face and made her way back between his legs.

Sherlock’s cock was absolutely dripping with want and need, and she smiled up at him as she lifted herself up, straddling his hips and reaching down to slide him inside her sopping wet folds. Sherlock groaned, and Molly grinned at him, bending over to put her hands between his arms and his body, sliding up and down his cock languidly. 

Sherlock hissed, and Molly smiled, “Your own fault for being so insistent on getting me off first. Now I am in noooo hurry at all.” She adjusted the angle, squeezing around him as she rode him. Sherlock groaned.

After a few moments, however, she couldn’t resist any longer, and sat up, riding him hard and fast. She loved looking down at him, helpless as she pleasured herself (and him) with every thrust. She gazed upon his face, realizing once again how much she loved this beautiful man, and how she never would have thought he’d be so sweet and accommodating in bed. The emotions that washed over her send her spiraling into her second orgasm of the evening.

Sherlock gasped out her name with a start, his orgasm taking him by surprise. Molly grinned wickedly at him, then slowly climbed off of him. 

“Better get you out of that coat before we have some strange conversations with the dry cleaner”, she said, standing alongside the bed.

“Don’t care,” he murmured, reaching for her. “Come here.”

Molly shrugged and climbed into the bed, curling up next to Sherlock on the splayed edges of the Belstaff. They dozed and drifted in each other’s arms, sated and loved.


	4. The One That Got Messy

_February 22, 2010_

_I know it’s been a while. Things have been busy at work. I can’t say much about my job, but winter is always a bad time in a hospital. Lots of people getting sick, or accidents, and sadly a lot of those things lead to deaths._

_Mystery Man has been in off and on lately. I try to keep myself busy and not think too much about him, but there are times my mind gets so distracted. He came come into the path lab today with one of the guys from NSY to give me some information. Despite his big “I don’t eat on cases” thing he had some sort of custard pastry he was shoveling into his mouth. Maybe he’d just finished a case? Well, whatever was going on, he ended up with this dollop of white custard on the corner of his mouth. His tongue snaked out to grab it, and I about fell over with the immediate image of him licking up something else white and creamy._

_It seems so dirty. I’ve never been with a guy who would even be willing to, much less want to. Is this even a thing that a guy will do? Why do I find it so irresistibly sexy?_

_Pervy little me, the pervy little Morgue Mouse. But oh man, is it hot…._

**Present Day**

Molly settled into the tub in her flat after a long day at the morgue. She’d been spending more and more time at 221B, but Sherlock was out of town on a case with John and other than spending a couple evenings that week with Mary and the new baby, she’d actually kind of enjoyed being able to have some time to herself. Her relationship with Sherlock was going far better than she ever would have believed, but she did have to admit that at times the detective was exhausting to keep up with. Where he got all his energy - for cases, for experiments, for sex (she blushed at that one, and sunk a little deeper into the tub, reaching for the nice glass of red she’d poured herself), she’d never understand. He seemed to live on air, rarely eating, and she swore the only time he actually slept was the nights she slept over, or convinced him to sleep at her place.

She wouldn’t give it up for anything, though. The headaches, the stress, the worrying (he’d been gone for a week with very minimal texts) were all worth the times he’d curl up in her lap, disappearing into his Mind Palace while she read or watched telly. She’d card her fingers through his curls (he said it helped him think) and she knew that these quiet moments were worth a dozen stressful days.

She took another drink of her wine and closed her eyes. She heard her phone ping, but ignored it. Anything important would come as a phone call, and the bath temperature was just right. She wasn’t getting out for a text.

Molly lazed in the water for what felt like forever, until she started to get a chill. Sighing, she pulled the plug, letting the water drain, and stood up, ready to wash her hair and rinse. She glanced over to her phone, drying her hand on a towel before thumbing the screen open to see who the text had been from.

Case finished. On my way to yours - SH

Molly listened for a moment. She hadn’t heard Sherlock come into the flat, but she was also half asleep in the tub for most of her soak. She shrugged. If he was there, he knew where she was, and he’d chosen not to interrupt her bath. She turned the shower on, working the shampoo through her hair. 

After her bath, she stepped out, wrapping herself in her fuzzy robe after drying off. Squeezing the water out of her hair, she put it into a quick plait, and stepped out of the bathroom and into her sitting room.

No Sherlock. She ducked her head into the bedroom. Nope, not there either. Of course, he didn’t say he was on his way to hers from WHERE, so who knew when he’d show up. Sherlock worked on Sherlock time. She ducked back into the bathroom and grabbed her wine glass and her phone. 

After pouring herself another glass of wine, she texted him back.

I’ll be here. Just got out of the bath - Mx

Molly set her phone down and picked up a book she’d been reading off and on, sipping on her wine and enjoying the evening. About twenty minutes later she heard a key in the lock (he was learning!) and in came the detective. 

Molly stood and walked over. Sherlock smiled, taking her into his arms in a hug and dropping a kiss on her lips. “Mmm, you taste like pinot.” he said, grinning.

“Want a glass? I opened a new bottle and we might as well drink it.”

“Yes, please,” he said making his way over to the sofa. He picked up her book and began scanning the back cover as she went into the kitchen and pulled down a second glass.

Soon enough they were curled up on the couch, talking about the week they’d spent apart, the bottle of wine now moved to the coffee table in front of them. Molly moved to pour herself a third glass when Sherlock stuck his hand out. “I was hoping to have plans for this evening, but I don’t want you too tipsy.” Molly set her glass down, turning to him. 

“Missed me a lot, did you?” she purred, sitting back and leaning into him. “What did you have in mind?”

Sherlock stood, and reached down for Molly’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “We’ve been here for most of an hour, with you in nothing but that robe, and I think I’ve been patient enough.”

Molly grinned, “You have been a very patient man. I suppose that deserves a reward.”

“Indeed,” said Sherlock. He turned and led her into the bedroom. Once inside, he reached for the tie of her robe, quickly untying it and pushing it off of her shoulders. She stood naked before him, and he drank up every bit of it. “God, I missed you when I was gone. Did you know this is the longest we’ve been apart since our relationships began?”

Molly reached over, unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt. “I thought it might be.” She moved down to the cuffs, and then removed his shirt, leaning over to kiss his chest as she pushed it down. “But leave it to you to know by the minute.”

“Mmm, minute, no.” said Sherlock. “But I might be able to do it by the hour if I…”

Molly silenced him with a kiss, up on her tip toes. “Maybe later.” She reached down and undid his slide and zip, working both his trousers and his pants off. She pushed them down the floor, and Sherlock obediently stepped out of them. “There, much better.” 

They gazed at each other for a moment, both of them continually amazed that the person in front of them loved them as much as they loved the other. Sherlock, because he’d never expected anyone would love him the way Molly did - patiently, forgiving, understanding his quirks and only ever gently prodding him when he did things Not Good. Molly, because she’d spent years fantasizing over him, then two years putting her life back together while he was gone, and then another year putting her life back together after her engagement had ended, only to find herself in his arms after all. Life has a funny way of getting you where you’re going, she thought.

Soon they couldn’t wait another second, and Sherlock lunged, scooping her up under her knees and carrying her to the bed, gently depositing her onto it. He climbed up after, stretching himself out on top of her, kissing first her lips and then making his way down to her neck, one of his favorite places to kiss her. “Missed you,” he murmured between kisses, enjoying how her breaths came faster as he kissed and nibbled, “Dreamed about you.”

Molly squirmed beneath him, soft moans escaping her lips as his hands reached under himself to find her hips. Sherlock brought himself up to his knees, bracketing her legs, and slid his hands up to her breasts while he continued to alternate between her neck and her lips. “Did you?” she gasped.

Sherlock kissed her on the lips again, and then nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “I did. Dirty ones, too. Was very strange waking up with John in the next bed and having to make my way into the washroom to deal with things.”

Molly grinned, “Sorry not sorry?” Sherlock smiled at her cheekiness and repaid her with a firm pinch to her left nipple. Molly squealed and laughed.

Sherlock slid down, his kisses trailing down her neck to her breasts. He kissed each nipple, his tongue snaking out to wet each one, and then continued his path downwards. Kisses to her belly, her navel, and soon he was between her legs, smiling up at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said, spreading her legs wider for him. “Got something in mind?”

“Always,” he said, before dropping his head and dipping his tongue between her folds. Molly dropped her head back on the pillow as Sherlock began, first just exploring with his tongue, slowly but surely homing in on where she most wanted his tongue. He knew how to tease her just enough. Enough to have her panting and begging, but not enough to frustrate her. She’d learned early on that when it came to cunnilingus, Sherlock knew what he was doing, just leave him to it.

His tongue eventually found her clitoris, circling it gently while he moved a hand to slide a finger inside her. Molly groaned, fisting the sheets and pressing herself into his face, always wanting more, more. She swore she could feel the vibrations of a chuckle from him, and soon a second finger joined the first, stretching and exploring inside her as his tongue bathed her clit. 

“Fuck, Sherlock, so gooooood,” she moaned, breathily. Sherlock zeroed in on her clit, pistoning his fingers in and out of her as she began to squirm on the bed. Throwing his other arm over his head and across her waist to keep her as still as possible (completely still was not happening as her body quaked with pleasure), he sucked and licked on her clit until she grabbed the other pillow from beside her and screamed into it, her neighbors not being nearly as forgiving as those who had gotten used to living next door to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock held on until her orgasm subsided, then gently removed his fingers and sat up, placing a kiss just below her belly button. He then slid up over her again, kissing her deeply, like he knew she loved. There was nothing sexier than the taste of herself on a man who had just given her an orgasm.

After she’d caught her breath, Sherlock reached between them, sliding his hard prick through her wetness. Molly moaned, bucking her hips, trying to capture him inside her. “Want something?” he murmured, his mouth on her ear again, nibbling on her earlobe. 

Molly grunted and wiggled again, still trying to get his cock inside her. Sherlock finally capitulated, sliding into her with a smooth thrust. Molly moaned, wrapping her legs around his slim hips, her heels digging into his bottom and encouraging him to thrust faster, and deeper. 

Sherlock alternated licks and nibbles on Molly’s neck as his hips snapped against her, driving him deeper and deeper into her with each thrust. Molly closed her eyes, savoring the intensity. She relaxed her legs, opting to instead plant her feet on the bed swinging her hips up to meet each of his thrusts as the room filled with the grunting sounds of their breathing and the slap of their skin against one another.

Sherlock sat up, pulling Molly’s legs so that her bottom rested on his knees as he continued to pump inside her. He reached down with one hand, finding her clit with his thumb. He worked her nub as he continued to slide into her. Watching her face carefully, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut, and just as her orgasm hit her, he slid out of her, one hand on his cock while the other hand continue to work her clit. 

By the time her orgasm ended, she hadn’t noticed yet that Sherlock had pulled out of her, and just as she opened her eyes to see what was going on, Sherlock groaned and sprayed a line of his thick seed along her lower belly. 

Molly watched, entranced, and then smiled up at Sherlock when he finished. “Mmm,” she said “That’s hot.”

“Not done yet,” murmured Sherlock. He scooted out from under her hips and thighs and grinned wickedly up at her as he bent his head, running his tongue from her almost over-sensitive clit up over her mound of curls and directly to the puddle of semen just below her belly button. 

Molly, realizing what was going on, propped herself up on her elbows to watch. Sherlock’s incredibly talented tongue scooped up what he’d deposited on her belly, meeting her eyes and very, very slowly bringing his tongue into his mouth. He smacked his lips as he swallowed, then bent his head for more.

“Oh, god,” Molly moaned. “You might make me come again just from watching you.”

Sherlock grinned, and continued to give Molly a tongue bath she’d never forget. When he finished, he lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning in to give her a long, deep kiss. Molly could taste him in his mouth, and she hungrily snaked her tongue into his mouth, savoring the flavor.

Their kiss broke, and she looked at him. “That was one of my journal entries.” 

“Yup.” said Sherlock, grinning.

“I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing tonight. You usually read them to me before hand.”

Sherlock smiled, grabbing the blankets from where they’d gotten shoved to the side of the bed. “Yes, well. I rather thought this one deserved a surprise.”

“Color me surprised,” smiled Molly, helping him pull the blanket over the two of them. “Welcome home, Sherlock.”

Sherlock curled in closer to his Molly. “Wherever you are is home,” he said.

Molly drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.


	5. The One That Involved Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super nervous about this one but I hope you guys like it. :)

_ April 22, 2010 _

_ I know it’s been a while, but there were some rumors going around about my Mystery Man, and it got me thinking. _

_ The rumors are kind of disappointing, I have to say.  People around the hospital are saying that he’s involved with someone - his roommate. I guess I can see it - they’ve become fast friends since moving in together and you see them together constantly. I don’t know, though. _

_ But, because I’m Super Perv, I couldn’t help but think about it last night in bed.  I’ve already written about me thinking about him licking up semen - what if it’s more than that?  I think about what he’d look like with a cock in his mouth, and the next thing you know, my hand is in my pants again.  The idea of him kissing another man is super hot.  I mean, I know that means my chances are slim (bisexuals exists, of course.  Keep the dream alive!) but it is certainly a delicious thought when you’re alone and horny, that’s for sure. _

**Present Day:**

Sherlock and Molly had spent the day making the rounds, checking in with members of his Homeless Network.  Molly liked to accompany him when he went because she could check in on the relative health of the various people, giving them suggestions and providing what limited care she could on the street.  

By dinner time they had made their way to Angelo’s.  Angelo was always happy to see Sherlock and Molly, and made sure their meal was perfect.  When they caught a cab back to Baker Street, they were both full and slightly tipsy on wine.

Letting them into the flat, Sherlock hung up his coat and reached for Molly’s.  She handed it to him, and then kicked off her shoes, collapsing onto the sofa.  “What a day!  We walked and walked and walked and then dinner - Angelo does such a great chicken parm.”

“Indeed,” said Sherlock, walking over to the desk.  Molly glanced over, wondering what he was doing, but mostly just relaxed on the couch, turning sideways and putting her feet up.

Sherlock set the laptop down on the coffee table, then lifted Molly’s legs and sat down, putting her legs across his lap.

Molly raised an eyebrow at the laptop.  “What’s this?”

Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, Sherlock began to read.

By the end of it, Molly was furiously blushing.  “Oh man, I forgot that one was in there.  I assure you, it wasn’t John I was thinking about you… with.  That would have just been weird.”

Sherlock shrugged, “You wouldn’t be the first person.  Or the last.  It doesn’t bother me, although it does bother John.  Of course, that’s because only one of us are interested in men.”

Molly hummed in agreement.  “I know we’ve talked about it before.  I don’t know why the world seems to think that bisexuality is some sort of myth. Just because someone is dating a member of the opposite sex right now doesn’t mean that’s all they’re attracted to.  The fact that I’m dating you right now doesn’t mean that my past relationships didn’t happen.”

Sherlock smiled.  “More importantly, you thought the idea was hot.  And this whole Livejournal experience has been about making your fantasies come true.”

Molly frowned, “Um,” she started.

“Relax, Molls.  I’m not going to go reveal some strapping young stud in the bedroom, and invite you to watch.”

 

Molly giggled at this. “Darn.”

Sherlock waggled his eyebrows at her.  “No, but I do have something for you.  You remember I told you about Victor Trevor, my University roommate?”

“Bedmate, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, eventually, yes.  There was quite a bit of that.  And there was one night when we were both...well, let’s just say under the influence, and leave it at that. Victor had borrowed a video camera from someone for a school project, and we decided that since we had it, we should put it to good use.”

He leaned over, fiddling with the laptop.  “So, a few years ago Mycroft dumped off a bunch of stuff that he’d thrown into storage when I left university for rehab the first time.  When I went back, I was under a lot more supervision, and Mycroft had tossed all my junk into storage.  Apparently he decided he was tired of hanging onto it.

“In the boxes of stuff he sent over was a video tape.  I’m going to assume he never looked at it, for my own sanity. I gathered up the supplies needed to transfer it to digital, and here,” he paused, clicking and opening up a video file.  “It is.”

Molly turned and looked at the screen.  

_ The scene opened up to what was undeniably a 90’s era dorm room. A small single bed was shoved up against a wall, underneath a collection of posters of rock bands.  A voice from off camera spoke. _

_ “I’ve got this, Sherlock, get on the bed.  I need to make sure it’s in frame.” _

_ Sherlock appeared from the foot of the bed, wearing an unbuttoned button-up over a white tee-shirt, and baggy jeans.  _

Molly giggled at this, and Sherlock glanced at her.  “Sorry,” she said “The idea of you in a baggy button up and loose jeans is just… it’s weird, okay.”

Sherlock shrugged, “I was high most of University, my standards for a lot of things were low.”

Molly smirked, and turned her attention back to the laptop.

_ While she’d been talking to Sherlock, screen-Sherlock had laid himself out on the bed.  He was on his side, head propped up on on his hand, staring at the camera.  “Okay?” he asked. _

_ The camera shifted left and right a little bit.  “Yeah,” said the off-camera voice, and the speaker stepped in front of the camera.  At first he filled up the entire frame, but as he made his way across the room to the bed where Sherlock lay, he came into focus. _

_ From behind, Victor Trevor looked like any other university age young man.  He was dressed much like Sherlock, in the fashion of the time, but with his hair cropped short against the shaggy curls Sherlock sported. Molly thought she could catch a glimpse of earrings in the cartilage of both ears - small hoops that barely made it around. _

_ Victor stood in front of the bed and shrugged out of his button up.  He dropped it to the floor, and then the undershirt joined it.   _

Molly raised her eyebrows in approval of the muscles that rippled across Victor’s back as he stretched to remove the shirt.  Sherlock watched her, a small smile on his lips.  

_ Victor reached down and nudged Sherlock to sit up, which he did, crossing his legs at the foot of the bed, facing the headboard, where Victor then sat, facing Sherlock.  They eyed each other for a moment, and then Sherlock glanced over at the camera. _

_ “Promise no one else will see this?” _

_ Victor leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips, which he eagerly returned.  “What, afraid everyone will know you’re fucking your roommate?” _ __  
  


_ Sherlock shrugged, “Anyone who hasn’t figured that out yet is an idiot.  I just don’t need the entire university seeing me fucking anyone.” _

_ Victor leaned in again, pushing the button-up off Sherlock’s shoulders.  Sherlock wiggled out of it, and Victor placed a kiss at the hollow of his throat.  “We can delete it as soon as we watch it, if you want.  Whatever makes you comfortable.” _

_ Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment, then sat back and pulled his shirt off.   _

Molly stared at his chest, comparing then-Sherlock to today’s Sherlock.  Maturity and sobriety had put a lot more muscle on the Consulting Detective.  In this video he was rail thin, like he’d been when she first met him, but also sort of gaunt.  He noticed her expression.

“This was about a month before I went into rehab, so I don’t exactly look my ...best.” he said by way of explanation, but Molly reached over and patted him on the leg.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here now.”

_ Back on the television, both men had stepped off the bed and stripped down to their pants, and were standing face-to-face in front of it. Sherlock was the palest she’d ever seen him, although she wondered if that was partially because of the contrast of Victor’s ebony skin against his. Sherlock leaned in, claiming Victor’s mouth in a kiss that was far more passionate than the pecks they’d been exchanging on the bed, and soon hands were wandering.  Sherlock’s long fingers practically danced over Victor’s shoulders and then across his back and down his arms, coming to rest loosely around his wrists. Victor’s hands had been on Sherlock’s chest, and now they were trapped there and Sherlock continued his assault of his mouth.   _

_ When the kiss broke, Victor slid his wrists out of Sherlock’s hands and wrapped them around his waist, burying his head into Sherlock’s neck.  Sherlock’s head tilted up, and as Victor licked and sucked on his neck, Sherlock groaned, his eyes fluttering shut.   _

Molly squirmed in her seat, incredibly turned on by seeing Sherlock in this state. Sherlock’s eyes darted from the screen to his girlfriend, cataloging her responses.

_ After a few moments, Sherlock regained his senses and pulled Victor onto the bed, stretching himself out along Victor.  He kissed him, then moved on to nibbling on his shoulders and neck.  Victor’s sighs and moans were audible on the video, and the soft rustling of the bedclothes beneath them. _

_ Sherlock reached up with his hands, cradling Victor’s face as he sucked a mark onto Victor’s neck.  Beneath him, Victor started squirming, and Sherlock responded in kind, rutting his body against Victor’s as their passion grew.   _

_ Sherlock moved up and began kissing Victor again. Victor moved his hands in between their bodies, and Sherlock froze for a moment, a long moan escaping his lips. After a moment, Sherlock sat up on his knees between Victor’s legs, and Victor sat up.  _

_ “Pants, off.” said Victor in a husky voice, and Sherlock moved them down to his knees, turning and putting his legs over the side of the bed as he worked them the rest of the way down his legs.  His cock was fully hard, and Victor licked his lips at the sight of it.  “Stay there.” _

_ Victor climbed off the bed, divesting himself of his own pants before dropping to his knees on the side of the bed between Sherlock’s legs. He stared up at Sherlock for a moment, and Sherlock reached down, caressing his face in a way that seemed almost too tender for the stories he’d told Molly about his relationship with Victor.  She made a mental note to ask him about it. _

_ Before she could ponder too long, Victor bent his head. _

The angle of the camera was not good for seeing what was actually going on, but Molly’s eyes were locked on Sherlock’s face anyway.  The utter bliss on his face as Victor’s head bobbed on his cock made Molly’s body sing with desire.  She knew that look.  She’d seen that look.  She’d  _ inspired _ that look.  

_ After a few minutes, Sherlock gently nudged Victor away and said “Come up here,”  Victor climbed onto the bed and Sherlock moved so that he could stretch out.  Positioning himself between Victor’s legs again, he smiled up at Victor before dipping his head, Victor’s long cock sliding into his mouth. _

Molly actually groaned aloud at this.  She blushed and glanced over at Sherlock, who grinned wickedly at her and nodded back to the laptop.  She looked back.

_ Sherlock’s skill with fellatio was obvious, but his enthusiasm was off the charts. His right hand was wrapped around the base of Victor’s cock, and after a few moments he slid Victor’s cock out of his mouth just long enough to wet two fingers of his left hand.  Victor, who had slid a couple of pillows under his head so he could watch, smiled. _

_ As Sherlock slid the cock back into his mouth, his left hand went lower.  Victor’s groans grew in frequency and volume as Sherlock slowly worked his fingers into Victor.  Victor fisted the blankets, groaning as Sherlock increased the speed at which his fingers moved inside Victor. _

_ His mouth never stopping, he watched Victor’s face carefully.  Molly knew he was deducing exactly what Victor wanted and needed, and she knew just how good at it he was. _

_ After a few moments Sherlock slowly slid his mouth off of Victor, his tongue dragging out the last lick.  “Ready?” he asked, already knowing the answer.   _

_ Victor nodded, and sat up.  Sherlock scooted back, leaning against the headboard but with room behind him, and Victor started coming toward him.  Sherlock deftly reached onto the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of lube, squeezing some onto his cock and stroking himself.  He had been nearly fully hard when he started but by the time Victor tore his eyes away from the sight of Sherlock fisting his cock, he was fully hard.  “Want this?” said Sherlock, noticing his gaze. _

_ Victor simply nodded, and then climbed onto Sherlock with what was clearly a well-practiced position.  He slowly lowered himself onto Sherlock’s cock as Sherlock guided it in, then wrapped his legs and arms around Sherlock.  Sherlock slid his arms under Victor’s and up onto his shoulders, gently pulling him down until he was fully seated.  Both men stopped for a moment, groaning. _

_ Victor moved first, sliding himself on Sherlock’s lap.  Soon the two of them were moving in perfect rhythm, and the only noise that could be heard was their moans and the sound of their skin pressing together. Victor leaned in for a kiss, and their tongues tangled as their bodies slid together.   _

_ The pace quickened, Victor reaching up to put his hand on Sherlock’s shoulders, hauling himself up and down on his cock.  “Yes, that’s it,” said Sherlock, barely audible.  “Take it.  You feel so good on me.”  Sherlock let go of Victor’s shoulders, his right hand coming between them where Victor’s cock was trapped between them.  Shifting slightly, he began stroking Victor’s cock as Victor rode him, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.  “That’s it, Victor. You feel so fucking good.  Come for me.  Come on my cock.” _

Molly realized she was holding her breath. Her body was on fire watching the two of them, and she really hoped Sherlock had planned to fuck her at the end of this.  Watching him fuck was the hottest thing she could imagine - it was even hotter than her fantasies, hotter than anything she could have imagined.

_ On screen, Victor continued to ride Sherlock as he stroked his cock and spoke to him, his deep voice encouraging the man to come.  With a groan that turned into a shout, Victor tensed and came.  Sherlock’s hand came up, covered in Victor’s semen, and Sherlock licked it clean while Victor caught his breath. _

_ After a few moments, Victor tilted his head down to look at Sherlock “That was fucking amazing,” he said. _

_ Sherlock smiled “You’re amazing.” _

_ “Your turn,” said Victor, smiling, and he climbed off of Sherlock, turning and getting on his hands and knees, presenting himself to Sherlock.   _

_ “God, you’re beautiful,” said Sherlock, moving up onto his knees and reclaiming Victor’s body.  He slid into him effortlessly, and wrapped his arms around him, leaning over his back.  “I won’t take long, watching you is intoxicating.” _

_ And he wasn’t wrong - Sherlock set a fast pace, and within a few moments his face froze and a long, slow, deep roar tore itself out of his mouth as he emptied himself into Victor.  After a moment, he pulled out, turning and pulling Victor down onto the bed next to him. They snuggled, whispering words the camera couldn’t pick up, and eventually the video ended. _

“I edited out a bunch.  We fell asleep and the tape ran to the end.” explained Sherlock. 

Molly nodded, unable to form words.  Sherlock watched her, amused.  “I’m assuming that was to your liking?”

“Jesus fucking CHRIST, Sherlock,” said Molly, launching herself at the consulting detective.  “That was the single hottest fucking thing I’ve ever watched.”

“Maybe we need to make our own video,” said Sherlock.  

Molly reached down, palming his hard cock through his trousers.  “Looks like you like that idea,” she said, grinning up at him.  “Not today, though.  I want you naked right now, and I don’t have the patience to set up a camera.”

The two of them were naked in record time, and Sherlock reached between her legs.  “So wet already, Molly.  Naughty little voyeur, are you?”

“When it comes to you,” she panted as his fingers danced across her clit.  “Oh god, just fuck me.  Fuck me right now.  Here.”

Sherlock licked his fingers clean as he stretched out along the sofa, pulling Molly down in front of him.  Lifting her left leg, he slide into her from behind, pressing his entire body against hers as he slid into her wetness. “I am not going to last,” he said, leaning in to kiss the back of her neck.

“Neither am I, fuck…” said Molly as her hand went down to her clit, pushing backwards and grinding against her hand as Sherlock’s cock filled her over and over again.  Within moments she was coming, with Sherlock seconds behind her.  

After a few moments, Molly turned around, curling up against Sherlock.  He reached up to the back of the sofa to grab the blanket that had been left there, and pulled it over them.  “Goodnight, Molly,”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.  That was amazing.”

“Thank you for letting me share it with you.”

  
She tucked her head under his chin, stretching out along the length of his body, and fell asleep, sated and happy.


End file.
